pair of wings

I always wanted to fly,

staring through the windows

when the birds flew out of the guava tree,

or the pigeons gurgled in our neighbor's roof,

as if mocking my existence,

I always would shoo them away.

Then an idea struck me,

what if I could grow a pair of wings,

So I begged for some magic spells from my grand mom,

who could make the fever go away, or cure an upset stomach 

just by chanting some words into a pinch of salt.

She would pacify me by telling many stories but never gave away any magic spell.

My science books too didn't offer any help.

I also went to Ronto kaku, who had a penchant for machines. 

He did promise to make me a pair of wings

only if I study hard.

Time rolled on and I buried myself in books,

Ronto kaku also passed away and his promise remained unfulfilled.

Many years later, 

now when I see the pigeons fluttering around me, 

I don't feel mocked anymore, 

perhaps I realize now that I can never fly,

I was tied to the earth when I was born.

Delhi sheds its leaves,
gets ready for a long summer ahead.
I too drop a few dead skins,
and wait for the flowers to blossom.
I spent a decade in this cycle of ice and dust,
pacing to and fro, in search for what I desire
and what I need. It took time to realise,
need always trumps wants.
Now when the fruit ripens,
it seems I can't find my hunger,
or feel any sense of smell or taste.
perhaps, it's best that way,
But what good it would be when the buds grow red?
Who knows how it will reveal itself.